


when love is young

by idolrapper (wonwoo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, F/F, Mutual Pining, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoo/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mingyu thinks in lists and memories, Wonwoo's heart is too big, and they're best friends caught halfway in the middle, Soonyoung is Soonyoung, Seungcheol is perfect but forgettable, Seokmin is Mingyu's platonic prom date, and everyone is oblivious and probably in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when love is young

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY BDAY, MY FAVOURITE XMAS BABY!!!!! ♡
> 
> i’ve totally moved on from one direction’s tragic new album but i’m still listening to [_what a feeling_](https://play.spotify.com/track/0iSWAT0EL8TwmzcgBjKMh6), the masterpiece of our generation. also the semi-inspiration of this fic. please change your life and listen today (svt fic writer or 1D promo bot idolrapper?)

“So tell me again,” Wonwoo says, sprawling herself across Mingyu’s sky-blue bedsheets. “How much did your dress cost?” She’s at Mingyu’s place, having come over after school to get ready for prom with Mingyu. 

Mingyu rolls onto her side, throwing a leg across Wonwoo’s bare thighs. Wonwoo’s plaid skirt has ridden up and the peek of her polka-dotted underwear is a distraction. Not that it matters to Mingyu how enticing Wonwoo’s underwear is. She just happened to notice, is all. 

“I don’t know, like way more than I can count,” Mingyu jokes, tapping her fingers one by one, knit in her brow. 

“ _I’ll_ say,” Wonwoo huffs. The stray piece of hair dangling down her face swings on the exhale. Mingyu wants to brush it aside, and she does, because it’s a totally platonic thing to do and Wonwoo won’t care anyway. 

In the meantime, Wonwoo’s butt buzzes. She reaches down to squeeze her phone out of her twisted skirt pocket, and reads the message. “Seungcheol-oppa says he’ll be here at seven,” she informs Mingyu. Her nose scrunches as Mingyu’s fingers brush down the succession of piercings on her ear. 

Mingyu yawns, jaw receding into her neck with the force of it, an instinctual reaction to Choi Seungcheol’s name. “Cool.” Her arm tightens its hold around Wonwoo’s thin waist, Mingyu moving in around her like a possessive shrink-wrap. 

“Sleepy?” Wonwoo asks, as she texts Seungcheol back.

“Yeah,” Mingyu mumbles, _yeah, that’s it_. Whatever. It’s okay that Wonwoo is kind of oblivious because her warm palm stroking Mingyu’s arm feels too good to pass up for the truth right now. A lot of things, like their eight-years-and-going-strong friendship, are too good to pass up for the truth. “Should we start getting ready, unnie?”

Wonwoo hums, letting her phone fade to black. “I’ll do your make-up, if you let me wear your black heels. The ones that make my legs look sexy.”

They _do_ make her legs look sexy. “Deal.” Mingyu grins, closing the minuscule distance between them to give Wonwoo’s cheek a quick peck.

 

 

The doorbell rings at six on the dot. Mingyu’s mother yells for them downstairs, just as Mingyu finishes up Wonwoo’s crimson-red lippie. Wonwoo’s waist-length hair is left down, slightly curled, and her satin black dress is deliberately cut to reveal a tease of cleavage, a hint of toned calf. Mingyu is going to expire at any second and it’s all Jeon Wonwoo’s fault. 

Wonwoo squeezes Mingyu’s arm as Mingyu turns to leave, and leans in close. “You look gorgeous,” she says, smiling that fond little smile she only ever seems to direct at Mingyu. 

Mingyu’s heart pounds in her chest. Yeah, she does look gorgeous, in her strappy, shimmery dress, hair loosely braided back, but not like Wonwoo. She wants to say as much, but her mother’s calling out her name again. 

They grab their clutches and float (or rather, Wonwoo floats and Mingyu tries not to trip in her heels) downstairs. 

Seungcheol is leaning against the door frame, chatting amicably with Mingyu’s mother, and looking clean-cut and sleek. His wide grin when he sees Wonwoo only makes him more handsome, and for a second, _Mingyu_ is charmed. It’s unfair. 

“Mingyu,” he says, after greeting Wonwoo, “Beautiful as ever.” 

Mingyu thanks him, if only to keep the smile on Wonwoo’s face, but moments later, her mother has to pinch her scowl away as she watches Seungcheol slide a pretty red corsage onto Wonwoo’s wrist.

“Sorry, mum,” Mingyu mutters, dragging out the last vowel. 

She receives a kiss on her sore cheek and a _have fun_ and _don’t do anything I wouldn’t do_ in response. Mingyu giggles. She’s seen the photos of her mum at prom; the tulle skirt over her hot pink disco pants, the frizzy hair and the _eyeshadow_ ; she was quite the wild one in high school. A heartbreaker, too. Mingyu’s pretty sure she got high off multicoloured pills after ditching her date and lost her virginity in a foursome after prom night. 

“Don’t do anything Wonwoo wouldn’t do,” Mingyu’s mum amends, sighing. She thinks Wonwoo is an angel.

They pile into Seungcheol’s tiny mint-green Ford, Wonwoo riding shotgun and Mingyu cramped in the back, knees pulled close to her body. Seungcheol drives off the kerb and blasts an R&B banger through his tinny speakers. He chats to Wonwoo, while Mingyu hums along to D’Angelo, but makes it a point to try and include Mingyu in the conversation, even though Mingyu has zero interest in choir and any new TV drama that isn’t _Lily Fever_. But over the course of the fifteen minute drive to their high school, Mingyu manages to convince herself he isn’t so bad. He’d be good for Wonwoo. 

Still, the second they’re on school-grounds and the engine is off, Mingyu tumbles elegantly out of the car and goes in search of Lee Seokmin, her not-date. 

He and Soonyoung are loitering near the doors of the gymnasium, or rather, the balloon-ed archway leading into their prom committee’s kitsch idea of a classy ballroom. Ah, nothing holds a candle to the fragrance of years of accumulated teenage sweat and the melodious squeak of polished hardwood. 

“Mingyu!” Seokmin calls out. “I got you a corsage. Pink roses are cool, right?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Thought we weren’t making a big deal of this.” 

Seokmin is busy taking the corsage off Soonyoung’s wrist, a little pink in the face as he does so, but he spares a moment to tell Mingyu, “I have a _mum_.”

Mingyu casts him an empathetic look, and concedes, holding out her arm. 

Meanwhile, Soonyoung gives Mingyu the rundown on the goss she’s missed tonight. “Guess who Kim Donghyuk got a date with.” He moves in close, and whispers, “ _Hyejin_.”

“ _Ahn_ Hyejin?” Mingyu holds the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to swoon. “How does he manage to get the grades _and_ the girls?” 

“Stop stereotyping nerds, you dumb jock,” Wonwoo’s teasing voice comes from behind them. She’s walking into the gymnasium, hand in hand with Seungcheol, already gone with a laugh when Mingyu spins around.

She turns back to Soonyoung and Seokmin, pouting. “What’s the point in being a dumb jock if I can’t even get the girl?” 

Seokmin pulls Mingyu in for a side-hug and rubs her back comfortingly. His laugh is much less comforting. “Soonyoung and I have been discussing that. I say that next game season, Wonwoo’s gonna drop her pompoms to the ground, and run over and kiss you when you lead your soccer team to its first victory in four years.” How specific, Mingyu thinks dryly. “Soonyoung says she’ll kiss you tonight.”

Mingyu scowls. “Don’t you think a bet is making light of my _very_ serious situation? And _tonight_?” She directs at Soonyoung.

“Just a feeling. We better go in, I think I see Mrs Lee on the warpath.”

“Don’t you have a date?” Mingyu belatedly asks Soonyoung as they make their way into the gym, breaching the curtain of gold streamers hung up on the doorframe.

Soonyoung lifts his shoulder in a shrug, grinning. “No one asked.” 

Mingyu resists the urge to sigh out loud, catching Soonyoung’s glance at her pink corsage. Seokmin is such an idiot. They both are.

The gym is filled with pastel and glittered balloons, and they’ve strung up fairy lights across the walls. The sight is surprisingly beautiful, but what really makes Mingyu choke up is the projector the prom committee fixed above the bleachers: it casts video footage and photos of the senior class onto the far wall, interspersed on the students dancing across the floor. There's Jimin and Taehyung squeezed into a single sleeping bag at camp, and Wheein's winning performance at the talent show finale. Nayeon, this year's cheerleading team captain, doing a handstand in the centre of the soccer pitch. Senior muck-up day, where Bobby imitated Principal Lim over the loudspeaker and announced the rest of the day to be one giant free period. The video shows the seniors coming in wearing ski masks and armed with water pistols, ready for war. 

Tonight isn't even Mingyu's night, yet she feels oddly saddened by the exhibit. Nostalgic, though she always is on prom night. Their school is small enough that prom is a free-for-all, and she's attended every single one since her first year here. And each time, the gap gets smaller, the goodbyes are harder to give away, the stronger the realisation becomes that _this is it_. It's all going to be over soon. 

"Wanna dance?" Seokmin is saying, shaking Mingyu's slack wrist to get her attention. 

Mingyu nods, following Seokmin out onto the dancefloor. The DJ—Mr Kim, Math teacher—is playing a lively jazz tune, something out of World War II, Mingyu recognises from History, which is kinda depressing when Mingyu thinks about it, but she doesn't let that get her down. She shimmies with Seokmin, somewhat carefully because _dammit_ , her heels are high, and he twirls her around and around to a trumpet solo, the sparkles on her dress catching on a photo of Yunhyeong stuffing his face with marshmallows in the cafeteria. 

A few songs later, Mr Kim puts on a slower number. It comes as a relief to Mingyu's feet; she places her forearms on Seokmin's shoulders and rests some of her weight on him, catching her breath. They revolve around, and well, Seokmin is tall, but Mingyu's taller; she goes to rest her chin on the top of Seokmin's head until he bats her away. She laughs, opting instead to lean her face against his. It's nice. For a moment, Mingyu thinks they could be good together, if she wasn't girls only and in love with her best friend, and if Seokmin wasn't boys only and in love with _his_ best friend. They make a pathetic couple. 

In love, huh? She and Seokmin are quietly discussing the extent to Mr Byun's (their enthusiastic gym teacher) and Mr Kim's (choir) friendship, when she realises she had thought those exact words: _in love_. Is she really in love with Jeon Wonwoo? Yes, Mingyu loves her, with every inch of her beating heart. Yes, she wants to kiss away Wonwoo's tears when she can only let them seep into her favourite shirt and feel the wetness on her skin. Yes, she can't smell this one brand of espresso or see that rusty abandoned swing set in the field near her house or feel the cool front on a summer's night, when the temperature is _just_ right, without thinking of Wonwoo. Yes, yes, yes, but _in_ love? No. 

Wonwoo spins past them, fingers curled into Seungcheol's suit jacket, red lipstick smudged a little, looking like a dream. 

Maybe. 

 

 

Mr Kim (choir) ends up taking over the music from Mr Kim (math) through little persuasion (Mingyu figures whatever he said that made Mr Kim flush red, she does _not_ need to know). While they dance to Adele's rendition of _Lovesong_ —"For all the couples tonight," Mr Kim announces, to simultaneous groans from the entire hall—Mingyu spots Soonyoung near the bleachers, chatting with the principal. Well, Principal Lim seems to be doing most of the chatting, while Soonyoung looks like he wants to be anywhere but there. 

"Seokmin," Mingyu hisses, poking him in the stomach. 

He startles, having dozed off momentarily. "Wha—?" 

"Go save Soonyoung-oppa," she says, pointing at him. 

Seokmin squints. "Yeah, yeah, I should. But what about you?" 

Mingyu rolls her eyes, shoving him in the direction of the bleachers. Seokmin trips and turns back to her, frowning self-consciously. She raises her fist, pumping the air, and mouths _fighting!_

Now, Mingyu is alone. She weaves her way across the dancefloor, to the snack table. The punch bowl is still three-quarters full. Peach-flavoured, her favourite. She helps herself to a cup and leans against the wall next to the table, fiddling with her bag in order to make herself look busy. She sips on the punch, and then yawns into her hand. 

"Sleepy?" A voice asks. 

Mingyu's head shoots up. It's Changkyun, from the year above Mingyu's, settling in beside her. He has a baby pink balloon in his left hand and a sharpie in the other. "A little," Mingyu admits. "Whatcha up to?" She cocks her chin at the balloon. 

"Just doodling. It's kind of an untimely habit," He says, sheepishly. "It was either this or a napkin. Do you know how hard it is to draw on napkins?" 

Mingyu shakes her head. She doesn’t. "Can I see?" 

Changkyun hands her the balloon. Most of the drawings are tiny observations from tonight: the cheap fruitcake and stack of finger sandwiches, a blur of well-dressed bodies, a comic strip of Lizzy and Jinah, the (hot) cafeteria ladies doing their trademark robot dance. 

"These are _great_ ," Mingyu declares. "No wonder Ahyoung's always going on about you." 

"She goes on about me?" Changkyun echoes. Ahyoung is their ditzy but talented art teacher; she’s super progressive and lets her students address her by her first name. 

Mingyu knocks her shoulder against Changkyun's. "Totally." 

Changkyun freezes, eyes widening like he's just remembered something. He opens his small shoulder bag, digging through it. Pulls out and shoves back in: a whistle, a crumpled copy of 1984, three balls of lint, a pair of binoculars, a broken plastic tiara, one condom packet, and a water bottle, until he finally finds what he was looking for. "Mingyu, gimme your hand." 

She holds out her hand and squeezes her eyes shut. Changkyun places something cold and metallic in the centre of her palm. She opens her eyes. 

It's a ring. A mood ring, to be precise. A little green around the edges of the silver, the gemstone currently settled on a shade of technicolour puke. 

"Wow," Mingyu breathes. "I love it." She curls her fist around the ring, grinning wide.

"Hey, I think Wonwoo needs you," Changkyun says, tilting his head. 

Wonwoo is standing several metres away, looking troubled. When Mingyu makes eye contact, she points to the bathroom. 

"I gotta go," Mingyu mutters hurriedly, bunching up the bottom of her dress. She turns back and waves her fist. "Thank you for the ring, Changkyun-ssi." 

She finds Wonwoo leaning into the mirror, the heel of her hand braced on the sink, fixing her lipstick. 

"What's up, unnie?" 

Wonwoo heaves a sigh. "Do you think being _too_ boyfriend is a problem?" 

Mingyu blinks. Like she would know. She hazards an answer anyway, "Uh, I don't think so?" 

"Well, Seungcheol is. It's kind of overbearing. He's sweet, but _too_ sweet, y'know?" 

"I thought you liked that about him," Mingyu says, confused. "Weren't you fawning over him being such a gentleman just last week?" 

Wonwoo smacks her lips and crosses her arms. "I guess. Whatever. He's been making eyes at Yoon Jeonghan all night, anyway. When he's not giving me tooth decay, that is." 

Mingyu kind of wants to laugh, because she's known Seungcheol's liked Jeonghan the entire year, _everyone_ has, but she isn’t entirely sure how Wonwoo feels about it. She's been crushing on Seungcheol for just as long, if not longer. 

Her message tone cuts her off whatever she was about to say. Mingyu attempts to open her clutch but the fancy clasp is just not working with her. "How do you—" She groans. 

Wonwoo reaches over, gently pushing Mingyu's hand away, and undoes the clasp with little effort. "There." 

The message is from Seokmin: _sry 4 ditching mingu pingu. come 2 the pitch if ur bored. we got beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer xoxo_. Typical. Mingyu clicks her phone off and returns to her conversation with Wonwoo. 

"So what are you gonna do about Seungcheol?" 

"Leave him to Jeonghan," Wonwoo says candidly, shrugging. 

"And you're okay with that?" Mingyu worries. "You've liked him _forever_ , unnie." 

"I think... I liked the idea of him more?" Wonwoo admits, looking away. "Besides, there's someone else." 

There's this alarming jolt of jealousy in the pit of Mingyu's stomach. Someone else? Someone she doesn't know about? 

She wants to prod Wonwoo for details, but Sana and Jungyeon are barging into the bathroom, giggling, and the opportunity is lost. Instead, Mingyu relays Seokmin's message to Wonwoo and they head out of the bathroom, and then the gym, and make their way to the soccer pitch behind the school in somewhat unsettled silence. 

The entire gang's there, and some stragglers, taking up a couple rows in the stands. Junhui, Wonwoo's replacement cheerleading bestie; Minghao, the spacey kid in Mingyu's class; Vernon, who constantly wears these hipster plastic glasses and pretentious sandals and randomly quotes Aristotle and Socrates, and Seungkwan, from the year below; Jihoon, tiny scary Jihoon who made Mingyu piggyback her up a goddamn hill during last year's cross country meet; Soonyoung and his Mini Soonyoung, Chan, and of course, Seokmin, chugging down a beer like it's water.

"You made it!" Seokmin yells, waving the bottle around. He has his arm slung around Soonyoung's shoulders and his hair is more dishevelled than Mingyu remembers and huh, all it took was a little push and shove. That makes one more happy ending tonight. 

 

 

They drink and they laugh, and they laugh and they drink, and Mingyu starts to feel the static behind her ribcage disperse and Wonwoo loosens up, nuzzling Mingyu's hair, like she's prone to doing when she gets bubbly. 

"Wanna look at the stars? Like the old days?" She mumbles into Mingyu's throat, pressing her red mouth into Mingyu's golden skin. And stays there. Hiccups. Startles a trail of goosebumps along Mingyu's arms. 

"Yeah—yeah, let's do that," Mingyu manages to croak out, throat dry. She holds Wonwoo up as they stagger down the stands to the lawn. Wonwoo pauses to bend down and unfasten her heels, dropping them to the ground, and if _that's_ not the greatest idea Mingyu's seen all day. She does the same, wriggling her toes into the grass. 

Wonwoo drags Mingyu a little way out, just outside the centre circle. They tumble onto the ground—some distant part of Mingyu's mind fears her mum's wrath when she sees the state of her dress—and rearrange themselves to lay side-by-side. 

Unfortunately, the sky is heavy with clouds, not a twinkle to be seen, so stargazing's a bust. But the wind running cold along Mingyu's body, the distant roar of their friends dulled down to a pleasant hum, Wonwoo's hand interlacing with hers, their fingers like puzzle pieces, takes her back to the balmy summer nights they'd spend learning the constellations in the sky in the field near Mingyu's house, or when they watched the last space shuttle fly back to NASA on Wonwoo's roof, the giddiness of watching a piece of history before their eyes making their entwined hands shake. 

"Tell me you're thinking the same thing as me, Mingyu," Wonwoo whispers, the words almost captured by the wind. 

Mingyu inhales, feeling the air scrape her throat. She lets it sit in her lungs so she doesn't have to speak; until it hurts, and she breathes out. "Unnie..." She trails off. 

"I'm a senior next year," Wonwoo starts. "And after that... Who knows. Sometimes it feels like there's a clock ticking away, getting closer and closer to the twelve. And everything will start over again. Do you feel that?" 

Mingyu nods, squeezing Wonwoo's hand tighter, filled to the brim with this panic that any second now Wonwoo is going to fly away. 

She doesn't. 

She sits up, leaning over Mingyu. Her eyes are dark, fathomless, like a dwarf star. "I'm going to do something. We're too strong to break, Mingyu," Wonwoo says, voice quivering, "but I'm scared." 

"Me too," Mingyu mumbles, before Wonwoo is kissing her, soft and warm. Mingyu's fingers curl around Wonwoo's arm, the cool brush of her ring imprinting itself into her skin. She thinks she hears someone shout out _FINALLY_ but she can't be too sure it wasn’t her own head. 

Wonwoo pulls away, frowning. "I'm sorry, was that okay?" 

Mingyu doesn't answer, sitting up and twisting off the ring Changkyun gave her. She grabs Wonwoo's hand, presses her mouth to her knuckles, and slides the ring onto her index finger. 

"Let's stop being scared," Mingyu says. She watches the colours of the stone swim around before settling on sky-blue: _at peace_.

**Author's Note:**

> my original end note for this was "all i want for christmas is for someone to fanart this" but i'm a flop and xmas is over. also what is it about meanie that inspires such sentimental cheesiness/childhood reminiscence in me...


End file.
